God Bless The USA
by Crescent Dreamweaver
Summary: Harper holds a memorial service in honor of 9/11.


GOD BLESS THE USA  
  
by  
  
Crescent Dreamweaver  
  
email: catz4dog1@aol.com  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Andromeda. Those rights belong to Tribune Entertainment.  
  
Synopsis: Harper holds a memorial service in honor of 9/11.  
  
* *= indicates emphasized words  
  
-- --= indicates a person's thoughts  
  
Let the story begin!  
  
* * *  
  
The moment Seamus Harper opened his eyes, he knew what day it was, without bothering to look at the calender. He got out of bed, and got dressed. He pulled on a black turtleneck, black slacks, black socks, and black shoes. Then he went over to his closet, and rooted around in a box he had marked "Harper's Private Property---Don't Touch". He finally found what he was looking for: a small white candle and a plastic candleholder that could float in water.  
  
Instead of heading towards the mess hall for breakfast, Harper headed to the Obs Deck, where he encountered Tyr Anasazi.  
  
"Where are you going?" Tyr asked. The Nietzchean glanced down, and saw that Harper was holding a small white candle and a plastic candleholder. "What are those for?" he demanded.  
  
Harper stared up at him.  
  
"None of your damn business," he replied calmly, taking Tyr by surprise. "And if you poke your nose into my business by trying to find out what I'm going to do, I'll take my nanowelder and zap it off."  
  
Tyr's jaw fell open. The young man had never spoken to him like that. He'd always been too afraid of Tyr to do so. He was about to reply scathingly when he caught sight of Harper's eyes. They were filled with grief.  
  
--Something's happened to him-- he thought, realization dawning on him. But before he could ask Harper what had happened, the young human had turned and strode towards the Obs Deck, his head held high.  
  
When Harper arrived at the Obs Deck, he saw that it was completely empty. Relieved, he closed the door behind him.  
  
"Rom, babe, do me a favor and lock the door to the Obs Deck," he called. "Don't let anyone in. Not even Dylan." The door to the Obs Deck slid open, and the ship's avatar walked into the room.  
  
"Harper, are you sure?" asked Andromeda.  
  
"I'm sure. I need to be alone for the next five minutes."  
  
"Dylan's not going to be happy about this," muttered Rommie. But she couldn't ignore the pleading tone of Harper's request, and she sighed. Then she locked the door, restricting access of it to Harper. "Harper, what is this about?" Andromeda demanded.  
  
Instead of answering, Harper stuck the candle into the candleholder, and then pulled out a lighter. He flicked it open, and lit the candle.  
  
The moment he did that, Rommie knew. She remembered that for the rest of the day, all across the universe, no matter where they were, people who were born on Earth were all doing the same thing.  
  
Holding a memorial service.  
  
"9/11," she murmured. Harper nodded, and went over to the small fountain that was on the other side of the Obs Deck. He bent over and placed the candle in the water, and it bobbed up and down gently. Then he straightened up again, and Rommie came to stand beside him.  
  
"For all the innocent people who died on September 11, 2001, I send my prayers. Rest in peace."  
  
Harper blinked, composing himself, and then continued.  
  
"For the firefighters who died trying to rescue people from the Twin Towers- --" He stopped for a moment, and Rommie saw that there were tears streaming down his face. He continued a moment later, tears still streaming down his face. "You guys died true heroes." Both Harper and Rommie saluted the bobbing candle. "Rest in peace."  
  
* * *  
  
Dylan Hunt, Captain of the Andromeda Ascendant, and founder of the new Commonwealth, stood outside the Obs Deck, his basketball under his arm. A moment later, the door to the Obs Deck slid open, and Harper and Rommie walked out. Dylan was startled to see that both Harper and Rommie had tears streaming down their faces.  
  
"Are you two all right?" he demanded, concerned. "What were you doing in there?"  
  
Harper sniffled, and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.  
  
"Holding a memorial service," he replied.  
  
The End  
  
* * *  
  
A/N: I was listening to the song "God Bless The USA" on my Jump5 CD, and was wondering if Harper ever mourned 9/11. So I wrote this story. I don't think it's too bad, considering it took less than half an hour to write it.  
  
As always, please R&R. Flamers will be pelted with dungbombs, and then they'll get their sorry arses kicked to Middle Earth. 


End file.
